Learning to Live
by MamaWeasley
Summary: Severus Snape gets a surprise at the end of his life. WARNING:  DH spoilers. DH compliant.
1. The Forest

**Learning to Live**

**Chapter One: The Forest**

Snape stared into Potter's eyes as consciousness faded away. No, not Potter's eyes; Lily's eyes. He knew he was dying; no known anti-venom existed for Nagini's bite. But if he could just retain the image of those beautiful green eyes for the rest of eternity, even Hell wouldn't seem so bad.

The pain was gone, and he was lying on his back in a place filled with white mist. He blinked once, twice, and saw the mist gradually fading away. How could this be? He was back in the forest, the one by his childhood home where he used to meet with Lily.

"Severus."

He was hallucinating. Was that even possible for a disembodied soul? Confused, he blinked again, and there she was, walking towards him. She was just as beautiful as he remembered—the beautiful, long, dark red hair falling past her shoulders; creamy white skin; and the eyes, those beautiful green eyes. She was wearing that lovely blue shirt, too, the one that emphasized her every curve. It had that tantalizingly low neckline, too, that showed off a hint of cleavage, just enough to whet a man's appetite…

With a start, Severus realized that he was naked. Perhaps this was a nightmare after all! Quickly he moved his hands downward to cover his growing erection. She was so beautiful…but she was not real. None of this was.

"Oh, I'm real enough," Lily said with a smile. "Real enough that I'm still in love with James Potter. But Severus…" She reached out, carefully stroking the limp, greasy strands of hair from his face. If she noticed that he wasn't wearing anything, she was kind enough not to say so.

Severus Snape had never been a talkative man—unless he was with Lily. Over the past seventeen years, he'd grown accustomed to repressing his feelings; but now, for some strange reason, he couldn't hold them back. "I did the best I could, but it wasn't enough."

"It was, Severus."

"Is this heaven?" he asked hopefully, noticing that, as she bent over, he could see straight down her shirt.

"I'm afraid not. Just a way station while your body recovers."

He frowned at her. "Lily, I'm not a fool. Augustus Pennyfeather got in the way of Nagini once…we tried everything, you can't heal those bite wounds."

She was still running her fingers through his hair. He sighed with pleasure and relished the sensations pulsing through his body.

"You don't know everything, Severus. You just think you do. Now, up you go." Reaching down, she caught a hold of his hand and pulled him to a sitting position. "Stand up, Sev. There are a few things that need to be said."

As he got to his feet, he noticed that he was suddenly back in his old black teaching robes.

"All right, I'm first. Severus Snape, I forgive you for what you said to me. And I don't blame you at all for my death."

He stared at her, at a loss for words. She _forgave_ him? After all those years? And what did she mean, she was first? The latter question, at least, was answered quickly, as a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"Snape. I…I guess I was an arrogant berk." James Potter was standing in the clearing with his wife.

"You always were gifted at understatements," Severus said shakily.

"I was rotten to you. I never gave you a chance at all. Just because you wanted to be in Slytherin, like your mother…that was hardly fair. I only wanted to be in Gryffindor because my father was. And then to keep it going all those years." Potter sighed regretfully, and for the first time, Severus Snape saw James as he really was. Maybe it was the newfound respect he'd gained for the man's son that now colored his vision.

"You will forgive me, won't you Snape?" Potter was extending his hand. Severus reached out uncertainly and shook it, nodding his head. Here, outside his body, it was hard to be angry at the man.

"Maybe there's hope for me, then." Sirius Black had somehow sneaked into the clearing and now stood at Snape's left shoulder. "I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me. Then we can drop all these stupid heavy weights off our shoulders and get on with our lives, er, deaths, okay?"

Severus forced something like a smile on his face and shook hands with his arch-nemesis. Yes, things were different here. He could put this petty school-boy grudge behind him.

"Excellent! Excellent, Severus. I'm so proud of you."

Snape didn't immediately recognize the wizard who stood in front of him. Surely he had never met anyone who wore plum-colored velvet suits, or had such a full auburn beard, or had such startlingly blue eyes…oh, those eyes!

"Albus?"

"Of course. Now, my boy, I want to have a word with you in private." The older wizard—or was he really older, here in this place-that-wasn't?—glared mildly at the other three people.

"See you in a hundred years, man," remarked Sirius casually. James waved, and Lily kissed his cheek, and the three of them faded into the mist.

"Now, where were we? Ah yes. Your death." Albus waved his hand, conjuring up two embroidered arm chairs. "Sit down, my boy. Sherbet lemon?"

Severus sank suspiciously into the chair. He'd always declined the headmaster's sweets before, but he took one for sentiment's sake.

"Part of the reason I'm here is to tell you that you lived first for Lily, and later for Harry, but you've never really lived for yourself. And that just isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," the erstwhile Potions Master muttered gloomily.

"And you did a great thing, Severus. You kept yourself alive long enough to carry out my orders to you. And I know that wasn't easy."

Snape nodded, remembering. "I don't see what that has to do with anything, though," he said.

"Well, those who are loyal to me…tend to get some help that they're not expecting. Yes, Severus, even after my death. At least until Fawkes bonds to a new owner."

Fawkes…he hadn't seen Fawkes for a year! Why hadn't he realized…phoenix tears…

"So you're going back, dear boy. Change your name. Leave Britain. Invent some new potions. Learn to really, truly love. And then, maybe, the powers-that-be will bring you back to Lily."

"Albus!" Severus cried out. The pain was returning, and the headmaster was fading away in the mist. "Albus, please…"

"I'll be keeping an eye on you. Don't worry."

And then he was back in the Shrieking Shack. Harry and his friends were gone.

He raised his left hand to his neck with difficulty; the bite marks were gone. He was no longer bleeding, but he was finding it hard to breathe. Of course: he had precious little blood in his arteries to bring oxygen to his body.

Phoenix song, piercing and lovely, filled the room. Fawkes had swooped down and perched on his chest; the bird's tail was hanging near his hand. What was the creature trying to say?

He could barely think, but somehow he understood what to do. His right hand closed around his wand, and his left hand closed around Fawkes' tail. "Spinner's End," he croaked.

He was there in a flash; phoenix travel was fast but nowhere near as uncomfortable as Apparation. Fawkes trilled again and streaked off into the night.

Snape raised his wand. "Accio Blood Replenishment Potion." A vial came zooming towards him; he barely had enough strength to catch it and remove the stopper. In one swallow he downed the foul-tasting concoction.

He could breathe again now. Oxygen flowed from his lungs throughout his body. He reveled in the sensation of air, wonderful sweet air, filling his chest.

Still unsteady on his feet, he first summoned his Expanded rucksack, then the contents of his bookshelves, and finally his potions ingredients. Clothes could be bought, and he had no personal mementoes to speak of.

Where would he go first? Somewhere other than London that had a Gringotts branch. Cairo, maybe? Or Beijing? No, somewhere close; he'd have to fly part of the way. Paris, perhaps, or Vienna.

Really, it didn't matter. Wizards lived for a long time, and he…he had a hundred years or more to travel the world. He'd never forget Lily, but he was finding it hard to obsess about her now. He would live. He'd learn and travel and invent, as Albus had suggested. Maybe he'd even learn to love.

For the first time in a long, long time, Severus Snape smiled.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, this was only going to be a one-shot, and I marked it 'complete'. But the plot bunnies couldn't leave me alone, So now it will be a bit longer. Not sure how long.

I'm aware that this could use some work: the plot bunny hit at 1 AM, and I posted it around 2:30 AM. Everything will go up un-betaed, as I don't have a current beta team. (If your interested in beta-ing, and are accredited by Perfect Imagination, I'd love to have you. I need PI betas so I can post on The Petulant Poetess.)


	2. Another Outcast

Alas, none of this belongs to me. It is all the property of the great and powerful JK Rowling. Said amazing lady has decreed that Hermione will marry Ron, so this story will not feature the pairing which was previously my favorite. I try to be a stickler for canon!

**Chapter Two: Another Outcast**

She watched in wonder and amazement as Voldemort's body slumped to the ground. He'd done it! But then, she'd always known he would.

As she replayed the duel in her mind, a thought struck her. Glancing around, she caught sight of a familiar redhead. "Ronald!" she called.

Somehow he managed to hear her over the hubbub of the crowd. "Oh. Hi."

"Ronald. Snape! Is he dead, then?" She'd found it hard to hate the man, even when he took over the headmaster's position. She knew her punishments could have been far worse; the man had protected her.

The Weasley boy nodded nonchalantly. "Yeah. In the Shrieking Shack. You-Know-Who's snake bit him."

"Okay."

But it was not okay. She made sure Ronald had turned away before slipping out the doors to the Entrance Hall.

She knew what would happen to him. His body would be picked up and it would be desecrated. It was already happening to Voldemort's body, and some of the Death Eaters. But Snape was not a Death Eater. Not a real one, anyway.

She knew what it was like to be maligned; she didn't want anyone else to suffer as she had. She would give him a decent burial before anyone knew what had happened.

It was a long way to Hogsmeade. She ran as much as she could, but she'd never been in good shape. Finally she arrived, breathless and panting, and the door to the Shrieking Shack, which still stood ajar.

It was clear where Snape had been killed: the floor was covered in puddles of sticky, crimson blood. And yet—yet no body was there. Who could have taken it, and how? There were no foot prints; a difficult feat when the floor was so coated in blood.

Then she saw them. Two feathers, red and gold. Phoenix feathers! But that would mean—her heart swelled up inside her, and a gentle smile stole over her face. He was alive. But where? Was anyone looking out for him?

Even after Harry's public defense of Snape, people would hate him. He would have to leave the country—change his name—make himself undetectable. Would he have the presence of mind to pull it off properly? He wouldn't be thinking straight after he'd lost all that blood. Even after a Blood Replenishing Potion, he'd be light-headed and easily confused.

She had to help him. Starting now. Lifting her wand, she transfigured the first feather into a reasonable facsimile of the Potions Master. It took several adjustments to get his hair and skin color just right; she hoped it would pass muster with the Aurors.

Next, she transfigured the second feather into an ebony wand. She hoped they wouldn't have the presence of mind to cast Priori Incantatem on the fake. There were so many bodies to take care of, surely they'd just bury him and his wand quickly?

She turned and walked out of the room, out of the Shrieking Shack, and back along the road to Hogwarts. She had to find him. That should be easy: he wouldn't be thinking straight. Odds were good he'd go straight to his home, wherever that was. Hermione would know.

But first, she had to go back to the scene of the battle and make sure she was seen. Let them think she'd been around the whole time and continued to stick around for a while.

Stepping into the Great Hall, her eyes were drawn to Harry. The poor boy looked frazzled. He'd always been a bit of an introvert; the hubbub down here must really be getting to him.

She sat down on a bench near where he was. "If I were you, I'd like a bit of peace and quiet."

He did.

"I'll distract them. Use your cloak." She yelled something about a Blibbering Humdinger, and Harry disappeared. She knew where he'd be, though. He'd go straight to Ron and Hermione and they'd go somewhere to be alone.

Stepping into the Entrance Hall, she cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and followed the Trio. She overheard Harry telling his friends about Snape—about Lily—how he had grown up near Lily in a place called Spinner's End.

She left them then, walking quietly towards the Hogwarts gates. Surely Spinner's End would be in Apparition distance. She would go to him now, before he did anything stupid, and make sure he'd be okay. He needed any help he could get; he'd take her help, even if she was only Luna Lovegood.


	3. The Mysterious Helper

**Chapter Three**

**The Mysterious Helper**

He was lying on the hard floor again. Why? He'd made it home all right, he'd been getting ready to leave—and then—and then he couldn't remember.

It was hard to think, but eventually he drew the logical conclusion. He'd lost so much blood that even a Blood Replenishing Potion couldn't replace it all; he'd need another one. Unfortunately, he'd only had the one in his cabinet; he'd have to brew another.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, but quickly collapsed to the floor, light-headed. His blood pressure was obviously extremely low. How was he going to stand up long enough to brew? Maybe drinking something sugary would help. He raised his wand, summoning a bottle of lemonade from the cupboard, but nothing happened.

He was absolutely drained, magically as well as physically. Good thing he hadn't tried to Apparate last night; he'd have splinched himself for sure.

Well, he'd have to crawl, or pull himself along the floor, or something—anything to get to the kitchen. Last night, getting to his feet was easy; he'd had adrenalin rushing through his veins. Today, the adrenalin rush had dissipated, and he could barely lift himself off the ground.

He dragged himself slowly over the floorboards towards the kitchen door. His sitting room had never seemed so large before. Just as he reached the swinging door that led to the kitchen, a familiar scent, sweet and coppery, assaulted his nostrils. He sniffed again, unbelieving. There was no mistaking it: _Someone was brewing Blood Replenishment Potion._

Pulling himself up on to all fours, he pushed the door open with his shoulder and crawled into the kitchen. The odor was wafting from the direction of the door to the basement. _Someone was in his personal laboratory._

Who knew where he lived, was willing to help, and was capable of brewing such a complex potion? Potter must know by now, and therefore both Weasley and Granger. Granger could no doubt brew a passable potion. But she wouldn't do it for him—not this quickly, anyway. It would take her time to get over her preconceptions of him. Minerva might be willing, but her brewing abilities were less than adequate. Who, then?

He collapsed onto his haunches and leaned against the cabinet, gathering the strength to stand. He must get the bottled lemonade. On the other hand, he might wait until his mysterious visitor arrived with the potion.

His head started spinning again; he lowered it between his knees, hoping to pool enough blood that he could stand up briefly.

The basement door opened. He was seeing spots before his eyes; a feminine figure was walking toward him, but he couldn't make out who it was.

"You were trying to get something to drink." It wasn't a question. "That's a good idea. Something sweet without alcohol. I'll get it for you; you take this."

His hearing was distorted; the voice sounded misty, so he couldn't make out who it was.

A vial was pressed into his hands. He held it briefly, weighing his options, knowing the concoction could have deleterious effects if it hadn't been brewed properly. Meanwhile, his mysterious guest was rummaging in the cupboards.

"Ah. Lemonade! Perfect!" She'd found it. A hiss indicated that the bottle had been opened. He could smell its tart sweetness near his nostrils, beckoning to him.

"Come on, Professor. No lemonade until you take your potion."

Throwing caution to the wind, he downed it in one gulp. His body began tingling all over as a large quantity of blood began circulating through his body, flowing through his arteries down to the tips of his extremities, and back up through the veins to the heart. He relished the pins-and-needles sensation, painful though it was.

"And now the lemonade."

The bottle was in his hands, nice and cold; his guest had thought to cast a cooling charm on it. Raising his head to take a swig, he found himself looking into the misty blue eyes of…

"Miss Lovegood?"

"I knew you'd need help, so I came."

It explained the perfection of the potion he'd just downed. The Ravenclaws had always teased Miss Lovegood about her devotion to mythical creatures, but the girl was adept at potions in a way that none of her classmates were. She'd independently come up with the idea to put in a clockwise stir after every seven counterclockwise stirs when creating Wit-Sharpening Potion, for example. Mastering potions required not only a vast amount of memorization, but also a certain intuition which many students clearly lacked. Miss Lovegood had always shown flashes of that intuition, even in her first year.

"Please drink the lemonade, Professor. You'll feel better. We need to get you out of here quickly."

He looked at her, puzzled. "Why? Do the Aurors know I'm still alive?"

"Oh, no. Well, if they did, they wouldn't notice: everyone's too busy celebrating. But I think you _did_ die, even if it was temporarily. So unless you want to go down to the Ministry to prove you're not dead, which would allow them to put you on trial, the Ministry people will be reading your will in the next day or two…"

He hadn't thought of that.

"I was planning to go anyway."

"They're watching the coast, you know. Plus the coast of France that's within standard Apparition distance. So unless you can Apparate to Iceland or Norway, or find a convenient thestral, it would be best to hide here in Britain for a while."

"They're watching for me?"

"Well, not really. I transfigured a phoenix feather into your corpse, so they think you're dead. But there's any number of Death Eaters trying to flee the country about now."

Snape smiled. "He's dead, then."

She nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "I shall have to tell you about it later. But quickly—let's go."

He allowed her to help him to his feet. "And just where in Britain am I supposed to hide, Miss Lovegood?"

She sighed dreamily. "Take your things, Professor."

He walked slowly to the sitting room and grabbed his rucksack. "Where, Miss Lovegood?"

She ignored him. Turning to the now-vacant bookshelves, she waved her wand again and again, filling them with an eclectic assortment of books. "It would look suspicious if they were empty," she said matter-of-factly. Snape thought it looked suspicious that some of the books were romance novels; but, then again, his mother _had _ lived here before.

"You will splinch yourself if you Apparate." She grabbed his arm and turned on the spot. In this fashion, Severus Snape left the house at Spinner's End behind forever.

Up next: Chapter Four, Luna's Plan. Where is Luna taking Snape, and how does she plan to keep him out of the Auror's sight?


	4. Luna's Plan

**Chapter Four**

**Luna's Plan**

When the familiar squeezing sensation of Apparation faded, Severus found himself in a musty, cluttered attic.

Luna let go of his arm immediately and began walking around the periphery of the space, chanting to herself. Severus recognized some of the spells as warding charms, but others were unfamiliar.

Since he didn't want to interrupt her, he surveyed his surroundings carefully. The space was perfectly round; they must be in a tower of some sort. The roof line peaked at seven feet in the center of the attic and sloped down to three at the edges. Two skylights lit the space.

The whole area was a mishmash of assorted junk: old furniture, some of which was rickety and some of which was sturdy and beautiful; boxes of all shapes and sizes; a few bookcases; a stack of framed photographs; a tower of large cans.

"I cast the Fidelius charm. You probably should know where you are so you can get back if needed." Luna had appeared, unnoticed, at his elbow.

"I suppose."

"This attic may be found at the top of Rook Tower, located outside Ottery St. Catchpole."

Snape scowled. "Just the attic?"

Luna smiled mistily, picking up a photograph from the stack and handing it to him. "My father won't miss the attic. He would miss the whole house if it disappeared."

The frown lines on Snape's face deepened. "You expect me to live in this attic for the rest of my life?"

"Just a year. But it's all set up, you see. Well, the furniture will need a bit of rearranging—but everything you need is here. Bed—" Luna waved her hand at a double-sized sleigh bed, complete with sheets and comforter. "Self-filling water pitcher, hot plate, self-emptying chamber pot—"

"And food, I hope?"

Luna indicated the stack of cans with a wave of her hand. "Right there. One year's supply: just add boiling water. Daddy believes that civilization will end soon, you see, so he's always had food on hand for us. This particular batch was for my mother…"

Severus looked down and noticed, for the first time, the picture he held: that of a young lady who looked remarkably like Luna. It was, of course, her mother, Lavinia, who had been two years ahead of him at Hogwarts.

"All of these are her things, you see," continued Luna. "Daddy couldn't bear to look at any of it, so he put it all up here. He never comes up here; he won't miss the attic at all. It's hard enough for him, knowing that I have a picture of Mum in my room."

"I have no wand."

"Yes, but you won't need one, will you? Everything you need is here. The bookshelves are enchanted, by the way—you just ask them for what you want, and they will send something of the sort from the library downstairs. All of our bookshelves are charmed that way."

"Potions manual," Severus proclaimed as a test. A tattered copy of _Advanced Potion Making_ and a dusty looking _A Potions Master's Herb Lexicon_ appeared before him. Well, it wasn't quite what he'd hoped for, but it would do.

"I'll try to get you other things to do, but I'm not sure what I can manage. The skylights are operable, by the way, in case you want fresh air. Just watch out for the Nargles—they've been known to get into the house that way sometimes."

With this pronouncement, Luna twirled on her toe

"Wait!" cried Severus. There were so many questions yet unanswered. He reached out to grab a hold of her, but it was too late; she'd Apparated away with a faint pop. He stomped over to the trapdoor in the center and tugged on it, but it was locked.

"Blast!" he growled. When he was frustrated, this was a literal pronouncement: smashing something with a good spell was extremely satisfying. He reached for his wand, but—curses! He didn't have a wand. Instead, he picked up the stuffed animals that littered the bed and flung them across the room. The frames of the photographs looked like they'd smash satisfyingly, but he had an annoying suspicion that if he did so, he'd be treading on broken glass for a year.

At last he collapsed on the bed, still annoyed. "This isn't much of a plan," he said to the pillow. And yet, in the back of his mind, he had a feeling that whatever scheme Luna Lovegood was cooking up would be quite clever.

Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay—had a bad case of Real Life hit me. I do have an outline for this story, just as Luna does have a more elaborate plan than she's letting on.


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